


Face the Death

by WoodenDeer



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Ardyn is the God of death, Gen, Many abstract things, Noct is Noct, Noctis Lucis Caelum Lives, Or does he, Philosophy, Pre-Slash, Psychedelia (kinda), beta was here once but we both died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27261469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodenDeer/pseuds/WoodenDeer
Summary: “I don’t think of death. Death thinks of me.” – Noct, probably.Or: in the final battle of Kings, Noctis dies. Kinda. Maybe. He isn’t sure, and there is no time to figure out when Ardyn meets him on the other side. Despite him looking differently, he speaks as much and generates even more riddles than before. Honestly, Noct just wants to rest. To take a good nap and send everything to hell.Unfortunately, the choice has been made for him: either he doesn't wake up from his journey into shadows or remembers what he has forgotten.Ardyn is there to guide him through endless possibilities the world can turn wrong. There is only one variant that Noctis is okay with.But everything has its price, and even Kings can’t cheat Death.
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia & Noctis Lucis Caelum
Kudos: 12
Collections: Ardynoct DS





	1. Limbo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glorilian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glorilian/gifts).



> At some moment of struggling with this fic I thought: “What am I even doing. I’d better write porn. At least it would be more popular.” The second title of this work is ‘The Chronicles of Despair’, everyone suffers because of it – the author, the character, the reader.  
> It was actually my first work to the FFXV fandom and the first one in English too, which I wrote back in April, but then it went through many edits... and even more edits... was in comatose for 4 months and finally saw the world, just in time for Halloween ;) I want to thank awfully beautiful Glorilian for the big help with this something (without you Noct would have stayed a little whiner) and the artist [WhiteCatArts](https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/74722250) for their amazing work ‘Messiah Complex’ that inspired me to do all this. 
> 
> Anyway, it was a highly interesting experience to try to describe 'what-cannot-be-described', and if you're fond of the theme of posthumous adventures like I am, then drop in. 
> 
> Some explanations of this AU:  
> Ardyn is a half-Astral, the son of the Goddess of Life Eos. Before her eternal slumber, she was the primal spirit of Everything and was the one who gave birth to all the Astrals. With such legacy, Ardyn had the potential power that went beyond the Six’s capabilities, and it extended to another dimension than the Beyond – the one where life and death are the same, the original Beyond, the Void. Knowing this, Bahamut tried his best to prevent the demigod from having a chance of ascension and possibly outshine the Hexatheon and Bahamut Himself in men’s eyes.  
> The Scourge corrupted Ardyn’s light essence, but instead of letting them annihilate each other and destroy him, Ardyn flipped to the other side of a coin. Thus, the God of Death was born.

**_‘On neither the sun, nor death, can a man look fixedly.’_ **

Francois de La Rochefoucauld

  
  
  
  
_‘_ **Messiah Complex’** by WhiteCatArts  
  
  
  


  
  
They said, it’d be better to know how you will die.

Personally, Noct had never agreed with the sentence. People who sincerely thought like that seemed to him some kind of lunatics obsessed with trashy mysticism. After all, he was young. He had friends, and wishes, and duty to fulfill. Why would a young man with all that desire to think about death? Not after he practically visited Heaven as a child. So, yeah, prince Noctis was afraid of death within reasonable limits and tried not to let it creep into his mind if possible.

And then Bahamut and His damned Revelation happened.

And those little but dear to his heart things – early memories about fishing with his dad, the proud look on Gladio’s face, flowers in his mother’s garden, dreams of the first kiss, the list of unplayed video games Prompto and he had made together, the taste of Iggy’s birthday cakes, the cold, yet astonishing sight of the night sky above their campsite, the rumbling of the Regalia’s engine… it all ceased to matter. Apparently. Or so he had to think.

Bahamut ordered him to die, and so he was going to comply. One vital obligation has merely replaced another. Nevermind that Noct still feared death. More important was the well-being of the world, and with that he wholeheartedly agreed. He will not allow his people’s dreams and hopes to wither in the darkness

 _like his own_.

He will bring the Light upon Eos. ‘Whatever it takes,’ he promised to himself.

With the same promise on his lips Noctis stood in front of the Fallen King, the Immortal Accursed. Ardyn Lucis Caelum, his death and his victim in one person. His Fate in some ways.

He definitely should have punched that _Man of No Consequence_ in his smug sneaky face much earlier.

As if reading his mind, Ardyn gifted the King the most dazzling smile of his arsenal, as deadly as the arsenal of the Royal Arms he possessed. Hell, maybe he was. Noct needed to focus on other worries rather than pondering what more tricks the Daemon had up his pleated sleeve. For example, on the big ass scythe which was pretty insistent in its intention to cut the raven head off. Or bone freezing and flesh burning spells in which Ardyn was surprisingly skillful. In a word, the newbie king had a lot of things to consider at the moment. Even if it was getting harder to ignore the pain from multiple cuts, and bruises, and fractures and, oh, did he have a concussion?

‘I will rest when it all ends,’ another promise for another time. Noctis huffed and then in a fast movement throwed the Blade of the Mystic towards his rival and _pulled_ only to bump against the bare ground badly. The deep laugh in the distance became his reward for the diligence. Noct gritted his teeth and tried once more. 

“Oh, such a failure! Better luck next time,” his personal nemesis cooed from where he balanced on the top of a streetlamp. The pillar was hit, the Daemon was not. A vortex of shadows blew past the kingly figure too quick to catch its tail. That’s how it had been repeating in a vicious circle: the silly mouse again and again jumped on the cat, but instead of slamming the annoying nuisance away, the beast simply let it bound all around in the strange kind of fascination from the helpless thing’s insolence. It probably could flatter if it wasn’t so humiliating. Looking at Ardyn, it became clear that his open expression showed anything but true pity. And again, those smiles hurted deeply than any weapon or biting remark because they weren’t as malicious as they supposed to be.

Noct really had enough of those smiles. His next strike hit right in the target. Ardyn made a highly pleasurable _oh_ sound and winced; no witty commentaries that time. Noctis felt the corners of his own lips twitched a bit. He would make sure to hear that nice sound ever again.

The night was flying among them but never ended, covering injuries of them and Insomnia as well. With every blow passed, the Kings knew each other a tad more, every strain of magic brought the inevitable closer. The sky was misty black as it was before, and thus one could be deceived that the royal game would not reach its final act. They were howling animals running in the dark and they were gods with the universe held in their hands. The knowledge since when Noctis started to reflect Ardyn’s smirks was nowhere to be found, and, honestly, he didn’t care. Despite or rather thanks to the ever present dizziness, his body was light and thoughts were simple. Do another swing with the sword. Don’t miss the burst of energy. Send the Firaga. Bounce back. Perform the Warp Break. Catch the glimpse of something like satisfaction spread across Ardyn’s face.

The ring of lamps surrounded the half-ruined pavilion but sparks in the golden eyes were brighter. There was a second or a few of stillness, while the two did nothing but breathed the thick air between them. The sight of Ardyn’s steady rising and falling chest was almost mesmerizing. Somewhat it appeared odd that such an immortal creature like him needed the oxygen inside his system – the cuts which Noct methodically had been leaving all over his body yet failed to mend but obviously didn’t bother the Accursed. When Ardyn stepped aside, his leg bent unnaturally. He leaned against a column and tilted his head, gazing at the King of Light intently. Noctis kept his opponent in the field of vision but took no action to harm Ardyn. Never suspected and never guessed why the pause, only swallowed inhales and enjoyed the respite. Gods, he was tired. However, not as tired as he would have expected. More like the fatigue after intense training. Very intense, through. His eyelids strove to shut, and he had to make the great effort to remain in consciousness. But maybe, just maybe nothing bad would happen if he closed his eyes for a moment…

“You look exhausted, Noct. Are you feeling well?” the sudden voice wrenched him from his temporary oblivion. Noct found himself standing in the same place where he was previously, blinking at the asked question. Ardyn, too, remained where he casually propped the column up with his shoulder. Raised brows, the smile broadened. Did he… A chill ran down Noctis’ spine. Did he just fall asleep a second ago? Standing? In front of his _enemy_? Actually, he couldn’t be sure if it was a second, or a minute, or whatever time had passed. It was still the night, of course. But somehow their surroundings seemed colder and murkier. The area around them was still illuminated by the lamps, however everything beyond the border of their islet of meager light could not be seen. A cloud of steam escaped from the King’s lips; he was fully trembling now as if Glacian embraced his whole body all of a sudden. The former drowsiness dissolved somewhere in his frozen veins.

‘What the hell,’ Noctis thought frantically, watching with wide eyes as shapes of the columns and the platform where he stumbled were devoured by thickened shadows. The marble was gradually disappearing under some gaseous liquid, threatening to leave him no space of safety. The low hissing as from a furious snake overlapped all other sounds. _What the hell._

“Is there something wrong?” the same voice wedged through his erratic thoughts. The King’s glance snapped to Ardyn who wasn’t as half agitated as Noct felt. Noctis gripped the hilt of his sword to sense the soothing solidity of the metal, but the action did not bring him any relief. He was torn between the necessity of responding to Ardyn, preferably with force, and to do something with the fading reality. “You looked so serious about defeating me before. What changed?”

Weird how it was but in that moment Ardyn’s hum calmed him down, bringing a jot of clarity to the chaos raging on. He recalled what he was about to do. The metallic taste in his mouth, the tension in his muscles. No matter what, he couldn’t forget.

It was rather hard to forget that he was meant to die when the blade cut into his flesh.

The severe pain flared in his shoulder, making Noct cry out. His knees could not bear his weight and hit the stone. Hectically trying to remember if there was any potion left, Noctis noticed absently the crimson edge near his face. As if sensing fresh blood, Ardyn was stalking his prey with impassive confidence of an old coeurl. Yet, the predatory gleam in his yellow eyes gave him away. “Perhaps it’s time you threw yourself on my mercy.”

Anger throbbed inside him just like pain, and Noctis didn’t recognize the voice as his own when he growled, “I didn’t ask for your mercy!” The wet warmth between his fingers and its sickening smell made his stomach twist. The Armiger left him in dead silence – no potions, no Arms, no anything. Noct was one on one with a fog instead of his brain. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Blade shattered into million crystals, his hand clenching on emptiness. 

Ardyn tutted at his outburst but continued anyway, “Now, do tell me, O’ _King_. Are you finally ready to face your death?”

“After you,” spat Noctis. Hungry, wicked, stinging, the tongues of shadows licked his boots, crawled over his legs and higher. Noct made the last attempt to struggle, at least to rise on his feet, and failed. His body as well as his elusive consciousness gave up on him.

But he couldn’t… he had no right to surrender, not yet! He had to stand, and fight, a-a-and win because he… made a promise. To the gods, to his friends, to himself. The future of his people depended on him and only him! The Chosen King, The Dawnbringer… There were no other options or choices. He had to keep resisting ‘cause he… he...

“I don’t want to die,” the simple truth came out easy and desperately.

“Well then,” with these words a cool hand lay on his cheek, chilling the fever. As through a dream, Noctis saw Ardyn’s eyelids flutter, “I will await you... in the Void.”

Darkness consumed the world.


	2. Bardo

At first, there was nothing. And so there was no him. Only It.

There also was no time, so It couldn’t even try to guess how long that dim slumber lasted. Occasionally, some visions reached what should have been Its eyes. Those visions brought meaningless images and sensations but faded as soon as they appeared. It didn’t cling to them either. It didn’t even consider to care if It actually existed. Freely It flowed lost in endlessness, being part of it and yet not.

Until It started to be self-aware.

The process of returning to himself took a lot of strength he didn’t know he had. In the rush of inexplicable stubbornness, he was breaking through unseen fetters, which were viscous like tar and bitter as well and aimed to breach into him with annoying constancy. It was a moment of realization that he felt something – irritation, then confusion, then vague fear followed – before he regretted it.

Besides him, there was _something_ else that woke up too as if waiting for him all that ethereal time. That could feel and perhaps felt more than he imagined was feasible. It swirled, and curved, and might yawn or rubbed its eyes if it ever had eyes or a body at all. Noct – and he remembered that he was ‘Noct’ – knew about ‘something’ because it was everywhere. And he was inside of it because ‘something’ equaled ‘everything’ in that place. Its presence felt neither cold nor hot, nor soft or harsh . It just was there, animated or not, around him but not only like that. The thing that frightened Noct was the part of the ‘something’ that was pervading him. Noct didn’t like it. Noct didn’t like _it_. His whole being was stained with black, and his subconscious screamed it was wrong, unbearably wrong, and things shouldn’t have been that way. Noct almost choked. He wanted to vomit to remove the black from his… from him. Everything became infected by its rotten nature. When he renewed his attempts with a vengeance, everything changed.

Whatever that muck was, it definitely didn’t appreciate Noct’s fuss, which made him panic more and increase his futile struggle. And then he perceived it. An alien reality-shattering pain overwhelmed him; piercing waves of cramps causing agonizing torsion within his very core. The invader that swarmed his being was now madly squirming, stirring his insides trying to gnaw out but only causing more suffering instead. The unbearable pain was coming from the abomination – it was its source, yet it tormented them both. It hurt, everything hurt and, gods, so, so terribly. Why did he have to go through this?

A shriek rang out soundlessly in the abyss. Sudden movements violated the stillness where he had been suffocating, leaving behind a mere memory of relative peace. The world circled around him and bucked, roared and scratched his soul with its claws. They hated and tried to get rid of each other, all in vain. Noct didn’t have claws or fangs, so he was forced to be tied with the frenzied thing and endure its tantrum until finally, after eternity of madness, it managed to separate and cast him away.

He was alone again. Thankfully. Somewhere else.

The place was as dark as the previous one but different. Colder, maybe more spacious – he breathed easily, or so he thought he did. Noct didn’t come to the inference whether he had a physical body or not. Did it matter there? He barely knew himself, how could he affirm anything? Should he be sad or happy? What these terms actually meant, where was the difference? For him, there was none. He was a concept, an idea itself, a newborn notion of someone he could become, and that worked fine. But he didn’t question that he felt: in every moment that passed he experienced more and more, discovering new emotions and remembering other sides of himself. His past was unfolding before him like leafing pages of a book, too brisk he lagged behind and couldn’t keep up with everything.

There was something on his mind. Just… what? What he had to do? An important deed. Vital even... A thing to do… Well, maybe not so important if he forgot. With much greater interest Noct reacted to touches he hadn’t noticed before.

Phantom hands roamed all over his being, and the action reminded medical examination. Such impersonal, yet thorough contact, which didn’t cause repulsion. That kind of touching one didn’t pay attention to. Noct decided he liked their non-invasive nature and let being taken and carried away. The touches, which weren’t a tyrant’s grip, nor a motherly stroking, but nice nonetheless, led him further on the way. The motions swayed him a little, and if he relaxed, he may imagine being rocked by tides. An endless sea stretched before him, lulling with distant whispers and hushes. The longer they moved, the faster their flight gained momentum; streams of air blew over his face more and more persistent, teasingly. Noct couldn’t help laughing. The sound split into tiny stars following them – myriad dancing sparkles of various shapes and colors, from common ones as yellow or blue or pink to those hues he wasn’t able to determine, but it didn’t matter because… Wonderful. A wonder, indeed. Each detail of his new existence utterly amazed him. Noct understood birds in the night sky at that moment. He was so light and unconcerned, nothing except for him and free will. Did he ever feel that good? He doubted it. His sigh left abaft like a quiet jingle.

And then invisible power turned his mind off like a light bulb. Eventually, Noct will be grateful for this boon. 

Their journey didn’t reach its end point during Noct’s outage. When he later tried to recall any events that had occurred to him at that stage, he quickly learnt that some things were best to be left unknown and decided to never do so again. And honestly, what could Noct tell? How he was but a baby and, in the blink of an eye, an old man and then back to a baby? That way he discovered he was a _human_ who aged, who was born once and was to give place to the next ones that would come after.

The more followed there.

The world hid countless secrets, and he wanted to cognize them, some more than the others and some to never touch, because he was a _person_ with his own preferences and aspirations. Fallen warriors and starved children lay beneath him in the horrendous heap of bodies, and his _body_ remembered pain and weakness, but it also knew caress and growth. A woman looked at him with her shiny eyes and handed over a small bundle to him – their baby he devoted himself to as a _male_ . Burst of laughter rang in his ears, a peck of kiss against his cheek; he accepted and shared the warm feeling that was called _affection_ freely. He sat at the majestic chair with the trusted ones on each side of him and gazed at the assembled crowd underneath; he was a king – his _purpose_ , but he never ceased to dream either.

He saw himself standing on the wooden platform, the fish flapping near his legs – so giant they had to regale with the citizens of the nearest town. He was soaked in salty water that stung his wounds and irritated his eyes, but nothing mattered because there were two of them, safe, sound and alive. Passersby recognized him not as prince but ‘the guy who hit the world record in Justice Monsters Five’ and ‘the boy who makes the best sushi in the whole city’. Cats visited his home as if it was theirs, the same did dogs and birds. He clung to his father’s knee, asking if he really, certainly, absolutely had to be a prince, and his father saying he could be anyone. 

He was many things.

He was Noctis. 

The following memories shone with obscurity that became familiar to Noct... _Noctis_. The name – Noctis Lucis Caelum – like all other pieces of his identity, returned to him at some moment. When the visions ebbed, the same power brought Noctis to the final stage; not so gently, he felt like spit out leftovers, which was more or less accurate. Although he dwelled in the borders of his resurgent mind, overwhelmed but too baffled to be scared, and maybe because of that the view before him went unnoticed at first. 

‘The fever I suffered from after Marilith… it wasn’t nearly as awful,’ the King blinked in the ambient darkness. Yeah, dark, again. Darkness and loneliness. What a surprise. 

“Please, do not exaggerate. You are quite alright.”

The kind of echo he might hear while wandering around halls of the Citadel answered his unspoken thought. Whatever processes ran in Noctis’ head, they all froze as if on command. That. That _was_ a surprise.

Where, um, no… What… Who...

“Yes, ‘who’ will be more preferable, if you don’t mind.”

Something in the sounding of that deep drawl felt familiar. Way too familiar to his taste. The usual annoyance determined his subsequent words,“What are _you_ doing here?”

Nevermind that he had much more important questions in stock. Where is ‘here’? What was he himself doing? What happened to him? How long had he been there? Was it all real? Those dreams and feels? Was he himself still real? But of course, Ardyn considered himself above waiting, refusing to allow Noctis even a few seconds to get his bearings.

“Is this how you greet old friends? I assumed you would be glad to meet a dear face,” the man’s tone lowered in dark amusement, “or anyone. Why, hello, Noctis. You are a true sleepyhead.”

Noct finally shook away from his stupor and cast a glance in the direction of the voice. Only to immediately start to doubt whether he preserved any shred of his sanity after all he went through. At least he didn’t ask if he was sleeping out loud if that mattered at all in the place where his worries were in a full view.

“Ah, yes, I was so delighted to see you I completely forgot... What do you think about my throne? Impressive, isn’t it?”

‘More like _pretentious_ ,’ was all Noct managed to think, while his eyes tried to look the immensity over.

There was a throne, indeed. Despite the inky darkness surrounding them, Noctis saw it so distinctly like the chair conquered and took over the sun’s dominion, installing itself as a new radiant center of the universe. It was big, absurdly massive, made of all kinds of materials: polished ivory, bright gold, plain base metal, exotic wood, crystal glass, chiseled stone, gems, pearls... Anything imaginable, really. The throne looked alive; its outlines seemingly ever changing, fluid and deceptive. One moment solid and the very next amorphous, shifting, conjuring ephemeral apparitions of animals. Hazy wild beasts always in motion, blinking, grinning at him. ‘ _Smoke and mirrors_ , how typical of Ardyn,’ thought Noctis. The throne was… a manic example of impossible contradiction: grotesque and yet resplendent. And Noctis could not drag his eyes away. He felt like bewitched. Or perhaps it was just due to its sheer, vertigo inducing monstrous size and the fact that there was nothing else. Just him, the throne – so big that it could dwarf Titan Himself – and Ardyn. Ardyn, scaled to match his creation, who was looking down at him from his high perch. ‘Always looking down – at him, at everyone, at the whole world,’ Noctis scoffed, ‘and this has not changed either. No, he only got _worse_.’ Case in point:

“By the way, Majesty, I’ve never thought it is possible for you to be even smaller,” the echo of chuckle resonated from all sides as if they were in the real palace, not in the heart of nowhere with the life and death throne in the center. “I can’t say it doesn’t suit you, though.”

Yeah, that bastard.

“Is it a chocobo there in the chair?” asked Noctis blatantly, staring at the spot where he swore he just saw the fuzzy bird head. Probably not the question he supposed to have on his mind, but Ardyn’s speechless confusion was worth any dumb thoughts. 

“Is it really what worries you now?” the Accursed imitated his words as if he expected to hear something completely different. Less dumb, obviously.

‘Like you were once bothered about what worries me,’ frustration or rather grievance pricked Noctis for a sharp second. He didn’t know where that bitterness came from but allowed it to seep into his timbre: “ _Yes_. So?” 

“...Let it be a chocobo then.” Another chuckle and again, Noctis couldn’t help but relaxed involuntarily at the effect Ardyn’s voice had over him. It was the ‘old friend’ Ardyn spoke about: its velvet and vaguely ominous delicacy accompanied Noctis during the ten years of his slumber. He saw it so clearly as if the fact was in front of his nose. Enclosing like a curtain, far whispers and reassurances gifted Noctis solace when the events sweeping past his eyes in the Crystal became too much to stand. He got so accustomed to that voice he didn’t try to establish to whom it belonged. The voice was there with him all the time inside his astral prison and then it appeared in his current reality. No, it steered him far longer. 

“Don’t you know that I dedicate my full attention to what concerns you? Even now: could it be that I am the cause of your distraction at the moment?”

“Have you seen yourself? It should be awful to live with such a gigantic inferiority complex _,_ ” snapped Noctis out of habit. And clamed up right after.

What did he just think about?

He might have had fetishes he wasn’t aware of but Ardyn’s voice surely wasn’t one of them. He didn’t even like the guy, duh. And his obnoxious drone pissed him at the mere hint of it buzzing near his ear. Not like Noct ever let him get so close to him. Or longed for it. It was one hundred percent not a possible issue he _might_ have put up with the _theoretical_ chance _someone_ crept around his insensible body. The mere guess was uncomfortable enough, not to mention he couldn’t tell for sure if his previous wild thinking was not momentary ravings. There was nothing sympathetic or encouraging about Ardyn’s voice, and if he squandered ‘dears’ and ‘darlings’ here and there, it didn’t mean he actually thought so about him… or he did, whatever, Noct didn’t care! What he was certain of is that the man kept irking him from the very second they had crossed their ways, and mocked him, and played with him, and showered Noctis with the tirade of commentaries too provocative to ignore and everything in the same darn roll of vowels, accompanying with the lavish scattering of his pet name, imperious, insufferable, extremely annoying and he wanted nothing but to hear it once more… He really did. Damn him and damn Ardyn frigging Izunia.

Noctis raised his head in a silent plea for Ardyn to explain something _because he always knows something but dummies up until the end, the asshole_ but instead got more condescension, “Aren’t you a confused little thing?”

There it was again, the taunt on the verge of fondness that sounded the same even if its owner looked not how he was acquainted with – Ardyn presented himself to be more _extra_ than ever, if it seemed possible for him. Noctis wasn’t surprised, actually. But he found the crown thing pretty neat. 

The creature – Ardyn, he reminded himself, – lounging nonchalantly with legs crossed, was truly gigantic. Logically, Noctis could not even roughly glance his whole frame over. Still, he saw every detail, despite the lack of light or his ‘belittled’ position. He knew who he met solely because of the voice. The enormous figure was arrayed in a tattered mantle of incomprehensible color with mist veiling the clothes like dust. The hemline spread across the pedestal, so neither the hips nor the feet were visible; the long sleeves hid his wrists. The voluminous hood also didn’t give the opportunity to see Ardyn’s visage. His constitution could be judged only via the thin fabric of the robe covering his legs, which hinted how bony his knees were, and deep burgundy hair – the luxurious jewelry flowing on the chest from under the hood. The crown of irregular ebony spikes wreathed the head. The crown of the King.

“I love how you say it,” rumbled the silky purr as disastrous as the Ifrit’s Scourge, “The King, oh, the King! You may not voice it, but your thoughts betray your awe...” 

“Who are you?” Noctis interrupted Ardyn’s nascent speech without regrets. Maybe… maybe he asked an important question at last. But like all important questions, that one was not destined to receive a particular answer.

“And who do you want me to be?” a tease, not an answer; but there was something in that remark, something that rolled over and over inside Noctis’ skull. After the hanging silence, Ardyn went on talking, “Look carefully and you will see: I am what your heart desires the most.” 

What he desired..? 

“Why am I here?” Noctis wanted many things. In the manner of a man drowning in mire, he wished the plain course of moving further. He seeked for exuding confidence in anything he’d done or would do, and he had more to do in plans. But at the instance he’d preferred to gain a grasp on what was exactly happening and, what would be even better, that shitfest of oversize expo to be finally over. To get some fucking peace. Ardyn-free afterlife – was it afterlife? Noct didn’t know how much time had passed since their last confrontation, but he already had enough of Ardyn’s crap, lovely voice or not. An uninterrupted rest. Sleep. Oh. Sleep. What a wondrous thing.

Ardyn huffed, in displeasure or sneer, Noctis didn’t get it. He had no clue it would be so difficult not to see Ardyn’s face to indicate his emotions. Well, it had not been helping before either. And it wouldn’t have helped him then to read the man’s intentions when the space crashed down on him with impossible pressure. The reason of sudden tension became evident pretty soon: the colossal figure on the throne finally changed its pose. It continued to move, gradually but steadily, which Noctis couldn’t describe otherwise than a mountain shift. Nonexistent vibration permeated his whole body like severe trembling; a gust of wind hit him in the face where there could not be actual air.

Overpowering energy knocked the breath out from Noctis; he needed to struggle to stay still. How that… how might Ardyn oppress him so much while slightly moving? Where were the limits of his true nature? _What_ was he?.. Strange but Ardyn didn’t scare him, even like that – Noctis understood to his mild surprise. As if he got used to that all-consuming somber presence since his earliest years. As if they’d met before…

As if the large hand reaching for him was something he saw already. So slow, yet so fast. Like a pause between the swings of a pendulum. A moment before the fall of a guillotine. A second of freedom before the collapsing. 

The sleeve of Ardyn’s mantle shifted and bared a wrist. However, Noctis wasn’t sure it could actually be called a wrist. Because a giant index finger was coming right at him, granted the realization: no matter what was hidden under the clothes, it clearly didn’t look like a man, remotely too. Ardyn’s hand reminded him of the sculptures he had seen at the exhibition back at school. Those ones that were twisted from copper and iron wires. Hundreds of metal bundles with diverse thicknesses were intertwined in unimaginable knots forming his limb. Someone was peering at him from the crevices of the nodes. And there were many of them. He thought about lost souls that obtained refuge in the dark voids of Ardyn’s body and went on their doomed existence there. Noctis watched the approach of the finger to himself, saw its sharp bent tip, which was formed by one of the metal threads, but could not take a single step back. 

Right before the finger would have touched his chest, it held off. And no further movements or commentaries. Just Ardyn and his hovering hand, conked out like a faulty clockwork toy.

“Uhh,” hesitatingly intoned Noctis. “Ardyn? You here?” he asked as calmly as he could manage. 

No response.

‘He didn’t zone out, did he?’ Noctis frowned: the thought that he might be left alone whenever he was with whatever awaited him, lacking even the company Ardyn provided him, with zero idea what to do… in a nutshell, Noct would pick up the contrary outcome. 

Noctis didn’t hear the other sounds except for his faltering breathing, and overall things seemed as if he was the only person for the nearest infinity. For good measure, he examined the area, then double-checked the nail pointing at him. It looked keen-edged. Without minding, he reached for it.

“Don’t touch.”

The quiet voice murmured right in his ear and made the hair on his neck bristle. On reflexes, Noct elbowed back. but whacked the sheer space. His head shook from side to side, but there was no one behind him. Except that he heard Ardyn. Either the guy sneaked into his head, which was the peak of his impudence, or it was Noct’s head with troubles, which he could hopelessly but excuse. Ardyn’s quirks started to tick him off. Noctis couldn’t wait when he finally got the hell off since Ardyn was of no use. And why did he drag him there in the first place?

“You came to me by your own. You’re the naughty child that runs against its master’s ultimate will.”

‘Here we go again,’ mentally Noctis rolled his eyes, but aloud he said, “I don’t have masters.”

Noct was not in the polemic mood.

“Don’t be so sure about it. Someone stands above all of us. If we don’t see them, it doesn’t mean they aren’t present.”

Nor was he in the bullshit spirit.

“So what, you’re saying you are my master?” Okay, maybe he couldn’t drop it so easily either. If Ardyn implied some drivel while hanging around him as a ghost, Noct wasn’t gonna indulge the man. Quarrelling might be childish in a situation like his but it gave him some sort of control, the peace of mind. And Noctis called for all the nirvana he could contrive as Ardyn’s gasp rippled over his whole body like a snake slithering through veins. “How _dare_ you insult me like this?”

Despite the offence in his tone, Ardyn larked about shamelessly, Noct felt it with every fiber. _Stop laughing at me,_ he wanted to growl. If being absolutely honest, he would admit he enjoyed the fun splashing in Ardyn’s utterances. Usually. But it was not that day. Noctis was losing his temper, his composure went off the rails the more charades Ardyn threw upon him. 

“Come on, Noctis! Get yourself together!” shattered Ardyn his skull from the inside. “Why are you here? Did you let the angry lapdog affect you this bad so you forgot your... innermost wish?”

‘Wasn’t it you who talked me down?’ Noctis fumed like a wick. “What the angry lapdog and what the innermost wish... Actually, what for fuck’s sake you want from me?!” He yelled. “Are you ever going to react when asked? What’s this all for? Quit making an idiot out of me and do something!”

Noctis swore he saw red at the sound of _hu-hu-hu_ gurgling in his brains.

“Don’t deny this old god his last thrills.” Even without seeing his opponent, Noctis knew he shit-grinning at him. He regretted the inability to kick that grin out his face. _God_ , his ass. “If you crave answers, you have to merit them. But so be it, I enlighten you: earlier you were unfortunate enough to run into my, ah, _louse_ , which might lead you astray, this why it took so long from you to meet me and it’s exactly the reason for your ‘idiocy’ now. Are you satisfied?”

He was _not_. 

“So what will you say?”

He had nothing to say to him.

At the thought of that cryptic wish, Noctis bumped into a blank wall as happened when requested to tell something interesting about yourself. But it seemed the answer was already known to Ardyn. ‘Of course, _of course_ he always knows. What’s so hard about just spit it out and get by without overcomplicating.’ Still, his innermost wish… If the way out of that overgrown dungeon, like in fairy tales, was the correct answer, then Noct’s memory stubbornly blocked all important information. Noctis’ frustration grew as well as his gloom. His personal sphinx came to help him:

“Then let me guide this lost silly lamb and remind it…”

Before Noct managed to squeak, he had been pushed right on the claw. Yet the pain didn’t come.

The picture around them changed. They were no longer in the darkness. Or rather it was dark but differently. More grim.

“This is the world now.”

It was the deserted dead valley they turned out to be in. Noctis’s eyes anxiously widened. Bunches of withered grass stuck out the stony wasteland and besides them few dwarfed trees bent to the ground as if mendicants crawling in dirt, begging for alms. The black land, the black sky with the charcoal veil of soot whirling into heavy clouds, and not a sign of a living creature as far as Noctis surveyed. For a second he thought he noticed a movement, but it was wind merely carrying rubbish. The landscape flowed and changed as if they levitated and observed from above, yet reticent misery was all and only that Noctis saw –the barren where the very air smothered life. 

Then Ardyn’s words sunk in. Departing Angelgard, he didn’t have a chance to estimate closely the condition of Eos. Noctis knew it was _bad_ . He didn’t know how _devastating_ things were in reality. If Ardyn was to be trusted, his world was on the last breath

 _because he overslept for the full decade_.

“Not what you yearned to see?” sympathetically inquired Ardyn; the sugary venom in his tone hurt, mirroring the pain Noctis inflicted on himself. “A pitiful view, isn’t it? Nothing except for loss and desolation...”

“And whose fault that is?!” Noct cried out, fury that was more like hysteria overcame him. He wanted to wail, to grieve and hide from the atrocious sight he witnessed, but above all he wanted to blame someone, to chastise them for horrors coming down on his home, and Ardyn was but the perfect candidacy. He wanted to scream at him, because otherwise he would be the only one at fault, and Noctis wasn’t sure he could handle the guilt alone.

“Do you really blame the tool the hand holds? Or can you blame the offending hand, while the other brings solace?”

“What?..” he didn’t really mean it, he didn’t care so far. He was worn out from not understanding what was happening and what Ardyn talked about. Noct wished he could close his eyes and open them in the past. Back in time things weren’t easy but at least he had someone to advise him. To take his hand and say they will figure it out.

“Oh, look. They are your companions.”

Noct quickly, thoughtlessly snapped his head to where he assumed he would see his friends and gave a sudden yell.

“Why this face?” Ardyn wetly sniggered near his ear to which Noct, absorbed in the opening view, had no vent to react. “Aren’t you delighted to see them all together at once? They look so peaceful _–_ the fresh air, the serene silence and not a single daemon to bother them… ever.” Noct tried to resist, tried to turn away, but his head seemed to be held in a vice forcing him to look at… at…

“Do you enjoy the taste of victory? It shines as bright as the first rays of the sun.”

Echoing Ardyn’s words, the sun broke through the heavy clouds and enveloped Insomnia in warmth. The air itself seemed to ring with life as less and less black stained the sky. But ruins didn’t look any more reassuring, sunlit, and neither did the heap of corpses torn to pieces.

It was like time scrolled forward: day quickly morphed into night, dawn came after dusk and dusk followed dawn, shadows altered their position in a second, grass and tiny flowers blanketed stones in wild colors, snatches of birds and animals flitted around... Everything revived and thrived. Everything but not his friends that were _dead_ . No, their appearance only got worse until there weren’t even bones left of them. “ _A small sacrifice in the greater battle_ , is this what your clever advisor had said? He and the others acknowledged the burden of being at your side and fought for you till the end. In this world you killed me. And died yourself, naturally. The Prophecy is fulfilled, your promise is kept, life goes on. Hallelujah! Too bad your retainers can’t celebrate with the rest...”

“Stop it!” the scream bursted out from Noctis’ strained throat. “No, _no_! Stop it! I don’t want to see it! Please, Ardyn!” by the end he broke into tears. They were scalding; he didn’t care. He begged his enemy; he cared even less.

Ardyn exhaled deeply, and with that the monstrous picture disappeared without a trace. “Alright, alright, no need to weep, my prince. Here is another fantasy to console you...”

The sharp noise blasted Noctis’ senses. It almost made him scream aloud and close his ears with palms. After a while he got used to it and recognized it as people talking. Many people, in the same spacious room, with ringing phones and clattering keyboards, rustling papers and creaking computer chairs. They were in the office.

“An ordinary sunny day in Insomnia,” Ardyn stated in the expressive yet bored tone. “The weather is brilliant for the last few weeks if not a tad sultry, the crown money stays steady, news can’t stop chanting about the successful peace treaty from every corner, lady Aviella regained her voice and now inflames the fans at her solo concerts as before, the Waterfall Park was recently repaired and citizens _–_ ”

“Gladio!”

Noct darted off the instant he spotted the familiar broad silhouette. Gladio was taking a seat in front of one of the computers, sprawling on the chair that bore his bulk with the evident difficulty. His smirk was just how Noct remembered it, the same was with the ponytail and loud barking laughter. But apart from those everything was not right: his face didn’t wear the rough story of uncounted battles, free from scars, his clothes were perfectly ironed shirt and trousers of pastel colors, and from what Nocris saw, his arms were inkless. The latter attracted Noct’s attention the most. Gladio didn’t have his tattoos.

“Man, how you stand this heat all day buttoned up?” he groaned, tugging at his collar. “This suit kills me, I feel like it will rip apart on me any second. Might look cool but I still have four hours of my shift.”

“Why not try to buy clothes in accordance with your size?” the man Gladio spoke with hid his lower face but couldn’t quite muffle his chuckles. Only then Noctis shifted his gaze from Gladio’s clean hands and it became another blow. “If you would request so, I can give you the number of my acquainted seamstress. She will dress you to your taste.”

“I’m more interested in her undressing me. Besides, in a loose shirt my muscles won’t stand out this nicely,” Gladio flexed his arms, grinning lopsidedly. His smile, though more moderate, was reciprocated by Ignis. Ignis, whose look didn’t really differ from what Noct was acquainted with save for the hair hanging down. Ignis, with his eyes leafy green and lively. Young and carefree Ignis who reprimanded Gladio for debauchery albeit laughing himself.

“Is it better?” Ardyn’s question tore Noctis from his daze. Looking around, unsettlingly, he nodded, “Yeah...”.

Noct stretched his hand towards Gladio to feel his sturdy solidness but grasped the air. He frowned and tried again. His hand passed through Gladio’s figure as if a hologram, the same was with Ignis. He couldn’t touch them nor make them hear him. Disappointment needled his very core. “Ah that miserable dole of a wraith,” Ardyn cooed. So he couldn’t do anything about his incorporeity, which was fine. Noct was glad to simply watch his friends alive and well.

The office wasn’t the place where he might expect to see his retainers, but he didn’t witness anything suspicious, no ruins or decaying corpses, he even felt the touch of donuts tantalizing his smell, but something still niggled at him. Noctis was averse to leave Gladio and Ignis and didn’t go wandering through the area. He looked over tables lined up and tried to recognize the missing part. “Where is Prompto?” it dawned on him.

“Ah, this…” Ardyn drawled and went quiet. Tension started to churn in Noct’s stomach. He didn’t like Ardyn’s silence or what it meant. He pursued once more, “Where is _Prompto_ , Ardyn? And me?”

“Nowhere.”

The reply left Noct speechless for a long time. The afternoon bustle rose and fell around him, but his mind didn’t concoct any explanations to what he had heard. “Where is Prom _–_ ” Noct tried again but Ardyn cut him off, “I hear you perfectly. And I’ve already said: nowhere. Not in this house, or city, or country, or reality. You don’t exist. Neither me, though.”

“...What it’s supposed to mean, damnit?”

Noct felt shaky and muzzy, and he really feared he would throw up right there but kept whipping his head from left to right, striving to find a well-known tuft of blonde hair or hear the nervous giggles. To notice his reflection in a mirror, at least. But Gladio and Ignis continued bantering together and discussing some deadlines and a broken coffee machine as if the absence of Noct and Prompto didn’t drive them crazy. As if they had never met. 

The sense of reality was forsaking him, Noctis couldn’t make himself believe it was real. It couldn’t be. He refused to concede it. It was all obviously wrong, all of it. Why the hell did Gladio complain about his tie when he didn’t accept outerwear at all? Why did Ignis squint slightly when he demanded crystal clarity from himself and therefore wore glasses? Why were they sitting in some kind of a stupid office and not training in the Citadel, among the luxurious halls and galleries? _Why didn’t they care he wasn’t there with them?_ Noctis’s hand, in itself, reached out to the nearest mug with the words ‘The Lord of the Office’ to crack Gladio’s skull with it.

“Easy here!” plainly rollicked Ardyn, stopping him and ignoring Noct’s rancorous snarl. “You can’t do it anyway, so why test your nerves?”

“What’s their problem?! Why do they act like… like everything is okay? I’ve never seen Gladio in this stupid suit before!” A sudden suspicion cut off Noct’s cry and lowered his voice to an angry whistle, “Is it your wretched illusion? How long are you planning to mess with them?! You already have me, leave them alone!”

“And when will our prince start listening?” Ardyn lamented without actual sorrow in his intonations. With an effort of will, Noct bit back all pungent remarks so that Ardyn would not play taciturn again, leaving him alone with the farce that was happening about. “Nothing of what you see is an illusion. Well, not mine, at least. Have you ever heard the phrase _Our life is just someone’s dream_ ? I’ve always found it extremely entertaining.... Alright, keep your hair on, please! You see another branch of events, a parallel reality, if you wish to call it so. We don’t exist here _–_ Yes, I know, it sounds terrible, I can’t imagine how the world experiences such a loss as me, but these vile Astrals don’t poison the ether either! No Prophecy, no vain victims. No magic. Ahead of your question: your father is as sound as a bell, he is the CEO of this corporation your mates work for. He never had children, but he is not lonely _–_ his beloved wife, Aulea, is always here for him. All of them live a happy life and will die in a ripe old age, without worries and regrets in their hearts. This is not an adventurous life but it is steady and sated, thousands would be jealous of what they have. Aren’t you happy for them?”

“But where is Prompto?” stubbornly harped on Noct, not knowing why. Fatality was already creeping up to him, threatening to cling to him with its noxious claws. Even Ardyn’s velvet voice couldn’t bring him to his senses, “The little gunman’s life fully depends on me. He owes his ‘birth’ to my Scourge as well as his wonderful journey to Insomnia in infancy, but it’s another story for another time... I see you don’t hold this pretty sunny world in high regard? Then let me show you something quieter…” 

Noct wanted to argue, wanted to say that he had seen enough, but the picture had already changed. It was dark and empty again.

He watched himself. Alone.

“The King and his blessed kingdom, how magnificent,” whispered Ardyn, and it was a cruel joke: the view was painfully similar with what he showed Noct in the first time, the nature strangled by darkness, with only one alteration _–_ Noctis existed in that world but was no better than a deadman. Even though he breathed and moved, stomped on the beaten track and didn’t demonstrate injuries or dirt on his sluggish figure, his face was blank and wan. He also wore his prince’s fatigue instead of the kingly raiment.

“What’s your best guess, what happened there?” Ardyn asked and proceeded immediately, “In this world you neglected the Prophecy. And your retainers. Everyone, actually. You were so afraid to make a mistake that you chose to do nothing _–_ not even reuniting with your pet buddies, some friend you are!” Ardyn choked on his chortle and lapsed into silence, probably waiting for Noct’s response. Noct had nothing to give him. Ardyn pressed on, “As a result, you lost everything worth the protection to the degree when your sacrifice would be futile… How long do you think he strays there, all alone? Ohhh, for _ages_ . And even more years lie ahead. It’s so rude to make me wait. This Noctis didn’t leave me a choice but to come to him myself and give him the deliverance _–_ a merciful death that spares him from solitude. But who will take care of me? In fact, what was I just thinking? That coward didn’t deserve to see my face, let alone beg for death!” He finished with a shout so thunderous it was splitting Noct’s head for a prolonged time. It almost astounded he still had something to say after that, “And do you know what detail is the most notable? It’s how annoyingly _many_ there are worlds like this one. A matter to muse, nay?”

“Take it away,” mortified, numb and shaky, Noctis mumbled. It was the worst reality he had seen. _Why did it ever exist_ ?.. There was no way he could be like _him_ , that broken shell of a man, the _coward_.

“Away? But what should I show you, Noctis? You don’t like anything I offer you.” 

“Just… Just show me the world where no one would have to suffer. You can do it, right?.. Don’t quit talking!”

Only the roar of wind and the swish of bare branches of the trees were heard, and Noct hated it. That Noctis forged on his endless journey, walking along the road that would lead him nowhere, and Noct hated him even more.

“This I can do,” eventually was a reply. Noctis perked up, full of hope. “But are confident this is exactly what you desire to see?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed from the bottom of his lungs. “Yes! If there are so many worlds, then there must exist one where everything is _fine_. A world where I, my friends and other people don’t know pain... It would be a perfect world,” Noct was shook up, and frenzy, but he meant it. He got an eyeful of wrecked things and needed no more. After all, something good Ardyn owed him, and his reluctance wasn’t able to convert Noctis. 

“Well then… Behold your perfect world where no one suffers and everything is _fine_.“

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Bright.

It was the first and the second thought, as well as the further ones, that he realized.

Then it was absolutely dark, or he thought it was, because the brightness seemed as absolute before.

Then he didn’t know what he saw.

It felt like a dream, protean, on the brink of a feeling, when colors metamorphosed into each other and he didn’t remember any of them after the instant. He tried to look outside and connect with something, any object or sound, but found none. He tried to look inside and sense himself but couldn’t feel it. He knew he was, he _knew_ it, yet everything that was left of him came down to his knowing. It appeared small but still inapt where he found himself, foreign. After the indefinite time of just being, he came to the conclusion. And it scared him.

It wasn’t just brightness or just darkness, it didn’t matter how he perceived it. It was the absolute void. And he was all alone in it.

He shut his eyes, or _hoped really strong_ he closed them or that he had his eyes. It worked. Or he hoped so.

_Why don’t you admire your ideal world? Here it is, right in front of you, in all its glory._

He imagined shaking his head. Sobs weren’t his intention, but maybe they emerged too. They were for him solely. If he could have breathed, he would have suffocated, but even air wasn’t there to alleviate or impair his woe. He was the living terror, and it encircled him and crumpled on him increasingly, the longer the larger, like boulders burying him underneath. There was so much of it, he barely understood his other thoughts, not enfettered with fear.

 _You wanted to take everything without ceding the equal back... I am so, so sorry. It is not possible. Not for us. We suffer a great deal to win a paltry piece, but in the end we can call it ours. It isn’t little. We are free to give it any shape._ _We are the creators of our future._

He discerned those thoughts like the oscillation of his essence, the tiny yet consequential flecks which projected feelings onto him, various in their undertones and half-shades. They didn’t have the origins of his terror and they weren’t him, and so he envisioned his hands and adhered to those thoughts. He didn’t halt at any of them, let them flow amply, but they sounded… he believed it was love. He liked them. They were so perfect in their completeness and integrity that he affirmed they were... words. Even though the cacophony of _bright-dark-bright-dark-bright_ still horrified him, he wasn’t alone in the void. But there was the horrible flaw in it – the sounds stumbled into silence, many short silences, but each of them agonized him with their lack. 

_Don’t be afraid of pauses. Without pauses, there would be no words, without vacuum, there would be no matter, without tears, there would be no whole. Emptiness is total, it permeates all things and is a part of them. Absence is necessary for presence to exist and vice versa._

He fantasized how it would feel to be able to coat his body with those sounds if he had it. His hands were too hesitant to unclutch and try to play with their gradient of meanings. He ached for a touch so faithfully that at one moment he was more than before. He finally could lean on the words. It was as if they sought him too, because they welcomed him with the warming twinkle. He revered their gift – the warmth, the light – and snuggled to them closer. The words had a certain rhythm in their center. _Thump thump. Thump thump_. It reverberated inside his core. Among the chaos he built about himself, it brought him peace. And once he concentrated on it, fear let him go.

He held the glow that was bestowed to him and made it shine even brighter than the blinding darkness. 

_It depends on consciousness what will be called out of emptiness_ _–_ _innocence, growth, regret, oblivion, beginning... What will you choose?_

He felt their mutual unwillingness when the words started fading. Suddenly they didn’t cohere anymore, the rifts between them widened and distanced them from each other until they were apart again. He bemoaned their former proximity but knew it wasn’t goodbye. He would grow bigger, stronger, ablaze so as to set the void on dazzling light, and next time he would come by himself first. He would find them. He would find him. 

“Noctis.”

He followed his name.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Placebo

It took him a while to realize that something had changed. It wasn’t like he felt warmer or softer, but he felt safe. He heard the voice. An actual voice coming outward, with the inflorescence of volume, intonations and roll of syllables, the bounce of hushing and mutter. The hoarse lining was there too. It brought him back to reality. 

He heard Ardyn’s voice. It repeated endlessly, “Here, here. I am here with you, Noctis. Shh, it’s alright. I am here. Shhh.”

At first Noctis questioned why did Ardyn shush him (and moreover _why did Ardyn ever bother_ ) but shortly after noticed moisture. On his cheeks. Which meant he cried in front of Ardyn. _Again_.

Noctis sighed but didn’t protest nor pried his eyes open as Ardyn hummed the melody, the verses of which Noct couldn’t make out but which he heard through his sleep in the Crystal hundreds of times. Probably. If some undying part of him insisted he did, he didn’t see the point to keep arguing with himself. 

Instead he preferred to relish in the song Ardyn whispered to him, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. It would have been better if he could have touched his hair, rocked him to the dreamless sleep and let him be like that. But just hearing Ardyn’s low murmur per se calmed him enough. ‘It suits you better to not be a jerk,’ Noctis quipped and thought he grasped an echo of the laughter. He didn’t want to recover but eventually his eyelids fluttered. 

The cold and twilight seemed familiar to him already. Noct adjusted his vision, blinking away the last drops. Fog sweeped at his feet, and Ardyn’s arm – the giant arm – was suspended in midair. That time he was smarter than to poke it. “Why did you show me all that?” Noctis’ chest tightened at the memory of the scenes during which Ardyn had accompanied him. They burnt him from inside like many scattering flames, appealing their way out and otherwise threatening to ignite him from head to toe. There had to be a reason for it. If it was some lesson to learn… His fist curled inward. “Why?”

“Because,” a boom plummeted from the towering throne, making Noct’s head buzz, “you had to remember why you are here.”

“We wouldn’t meet if you didn’t want to live and wanted it desperately,” ensued the answer but that time softly and from behind him. Ardyn stayed invisible, but Noct felt his physical presence beside when Ardyn put his hand over his, intertwining their fingers, and led their joined hands to Noctis’ chest. It seemed as though all his smoldering worries broke free: the touch lit a real fire in Noct’s palm, yet it didn’t scorch. He could clearly hear his heartbeat, and his heart was pounding so fast it almost hurt – in the most delightful way. In its glow Noct also saw his naked body. He calculated that all the time he was that vulnerable, as if exhibited for Ardyn. However, the flash of humiliation quickly waned. “Do you hear it? Your heart beats too loud for someone whose fate is to perish,” Ardyn gleefully whispered in his ear, and Noct almost felt his feverish breath.

Noctis couldn’t disagree with his statement.

“You may think I know everything, but I can’t decide for you.” The wiry limb swiftly returned to its place, throwing a hurricane of wind on Noct. The colossus resembled a unified statue again. “What do you want, Noctis?”

_I don’t want to die._

His own words floated to the surface of his mind and for a second filled him with the need so strong he thought he might cry again. When was the last time he saw the sun? The real sun, not the twisted illusionary picture of the nightmarish peace. He missed it dearly, yet for him it wasn’t as long as for anyone else. Surrounded by pitch-black darkness and savagery, all people on Eos prayed for their King’s return. No, no, how long was he in that place? He didn’t have time for that! And what about his retainers? What was with Ignis, Gladio, Prompto, Cor, Iris – did they still have a chance to survive? Did they still wait for him? Did they observe his battle and… see him fall?

The wave of dread crashed upon him. 

Did he lose?

Was he actually... dead? For real and finally? And because of it he was in that place?

He had to come back.

To resume the fight and try again or, or to see his friends one more time. He didn’t tell them everything he wanted, didn’t say enough. And how could he? All past years he had been a stubborn idiot, thinking there still was time, more opportunities, and stayed mute, detached from the only people who gave a damn about him. And when time had been cut out so suddenly, he, what, just resigned to it? So easily, like a docile sheep? 

He was not a sheep and didn’t take commands. He was who commanded, _the King_.

But being a king meant living for his duty that he no matter what could not brush aside. It would not have brought him any good end in fact, and he had known it from the beginning. 

Although, saying _live for duty_ , no one mentioned dying.

He will find another way. If there existed possibilities where he failed, this one will be different. He will meet his friends first, make sure they are safe, and only after will deal with whatever gods and Ardyn prepared for him.

Noctis seemed to feel everything at once as if in the first time in his life he was aware of his own existence, and it was just too much for him to comprehend. He felt sorely alive at that very moment. Alien to where he stuck. Defective without his people. 

“I want to be happy with them,” assured Noctis as if himself. Embarrassment or guilt couldn’t change the simple truth which he wasn’t intent to doubt. 

“ _A happiness for every sadness._..” singsonged Ardyn a little out of place in a pensive tone, and a sharp sensation tingled Noctis’ nape at those words. He was pretty sure he had never heard them before, but hearing Ardyn crooning them felt just right and as routine as the old history lectures he had been stuffed with once. Ardyn tilted his head, his usual gesture appeared uncanny, considering his current shape. Noctis felt the creature’s burning gaze on him through the hood. He was inspected as then in ruins of Insomnia. “I have something to offer you. You may even like it… I shall warn you: the explanation will not be remiss, but I do hope you will be more attentive than in your classes.”

“And why should I?” Noctis asked while looking around but seeing only mist, darkness and, of course, the jumbo with more mumbo prepared on his long-long tongue. Urgency filled Noctis with restored energy and pushed him forward to do something immediately, _right now, in the exact damn second_ , until it wasn’t too late, and if Ardyn wanted to blabber, he didn’t need listeners as Noct knew from experience. But it seemed he didn’t have much power to decide there despite Ardyn’s previous words: he had no idea how to get the hell out of the dingy hole, not without the help of a certain someone. And to earn the favour, he had to clean his ears for upcoming nonsense.

“In piety to god you’d better show a decent amount of assiduity. Who knows how good it will serve you later.”

Noct considered Ardyn’s answer for the whole honest minute. He spread his arms in the intentional mocking manner, glancing backwards, “Is there anyone else besides us? Why didn’t you introduce us? I high-key want to talk with them more than with you.”

It was hilarious to see how pissed off Ardyn looked without any external indications of his pique Noctis’ petty play evoked. Judging by the sound, he sucked in air but said nothing. ‘You really do have complexes, huh?’ Noct marked in thoughts, knowing Ardyn could hear him.

With a thunder-like sigh Ardyn put his jaw – or what he had there – in his palm whether from amusement or exasperation, either way Noct felt a smile tugging at his lips that surprised even him. It felt surreal, yet it was there. Ardyn said, “I am more than you think. I am unlike anyone in our bloodline. I was born a deity.”

“A deity,” Noct parroted back. Despite his skepticism, it explained a lot. He had lost his suspicion that everything was his deathbed hallucination or Ardyn’s schemes to delude him a while ago. Or maybe Ardyn did delude him and he was writhing in delirium, laying on the cold stone, pierced by Ardyn’s blade, in the pool of his own blood. But he wanted to believe better. If it meant to believe Ardyn, well… nothing could beat that stinky tofu as his worst ever decisions.

Noct couldn’t help himself digging, “Probably just some puny deity.”

“The God of death to be precise.”

That sounded like a lot.

From what Noctis knew (and he knew for sure), the habit of reveling in one’s own ego was a truly divine trait. Thereby Ardyn’s revelation was very much trustworthy. “Well, I am not going to pray for you.” He might light a single candle for him out of pity, no more, and even that all thanks to the scarce occasions of Ardyn not being a complete dick. 

“And I don’t expect you to, but be so kind to hear me out, _would you_?” After the pause full of Noct’s second thinking and the final verdict ‘I-will-regret-it-but-I-need-him’, Ardyn seemed satisfied with Noctis’ muttered “Will do”. 

And then he spoke, and his ‘explanation’ was anything but what Noctis had expected:

“Before the great Creation words had been spoken in the Void. The Void heeded them, and admired them, and let them happen, and thus Everything took its birth and filled what was once the Void. There was the Goddess whose name meant Dawn and resounded as Eos, and She ruled Everything, and Everything was subject to Her. Eons passed, the Goddess kept those words humbly, and sang them as a precious lullaby to Her Children. They, in turn, remembered those words, and when Their Mother steeped in Her eternal slumber, They carried the words to the masses until they were forgotten by humans. But the Children never forgot.”

“Are you citing the Cosmogony?” uttered Noct, totally baffled. He asked it even realizing there wasn’t anything about the goddess Eos in the Cosmogony or her children or mysterious words they disseminated to people. The sudden wind rushed his hair and made him sway. 

“This lousy example of pulp fiction was scribbled by human fools,” furiously laughed Ardyn; he didn’t sound as himself anymore. The modulation of his voice increased and deepened, changed, layered as if the chorus of multiple voices merged into one lilt. “What I am telling you is the original story of the world rising. By now only few know how everything happened and there are even fewer of those who remember. For all that, the Lullaby stays as admirable as it was when the Mother sang it.”

Along with his tone, a hurricane suddenly rose, twisting the clouds of fog around them in a circle like in the eye of the storm. Air whistled in his ears, and Noct almost missed Ardyn’s words. “You can sing along,” but then Ardyn abruptly leaned towards him from his throne. From surprise, Noctis recoiled but ran into an obstacle with his back – unseeable grip fixed him firmly in place, and the voice of the ghostly Ardyn spilled in his ear again, mimicking the rumbling giant on the throne.

What Noct heard was the same song Ardyn warbled to him countless times before.

“ _Let there be life and death. Let there be pain and ease. Let there be two sides for every coin, two perspectives for every story, to every light a darkness, and to every darkness a light. Duality shall be its name, and its name is Duality. For every beautiful song there will be an equally haunting silence. For every death a birth, a love for every hate, an up for every down, a happiness for every sadness, and it will be beautiful. Let there be a new creation of new ideas and concepts for every one erased, and it will be beautiful. Every beginning will have its end and every end its own end, and, in its dying breaths…”_

 _“_...the universe shall sing,” Noctis finished. His head and jawline was tenderly stroked. A foreign whisper trickled into his mind, too faint for him to distinguish.

“And so here you have a choice, King of Light. Will you listen to the world singing its final song? Should it be the song of oblivion or,” Noctis knew the creature smiled, “resurrection?”

 _What kind of question is that?_ Noct wanted to ask but he didn’t need to. He looked straight and stubbornly upwards, unmistakably finding the hidden gaze of the enormous figure. Ardyn heard him and roared with laughter; it was the exact reaction he anticipated.

“All that exists has a price.” Ardyn jerked away from his seat, and a gust of wind hit Noct as if aiming to crumple him and make even smaller. Noctis wheezed but stayed upright. “Unlike life, which is absolute. Funny how it is...”

Ardyn took a step forward. Noctis wasn’t smashed or killed on the spot – the shadow stood right in front of him, slightly higher. For some reason, from seeing the monster so real, within the reach, the hairs on Noct’s head stood on end. There was something wrong with the way the space under Ardyn’s hood was always darker than the surroundings.

“But I’m no Life,” Ardyn said; the resonance of noises that was his voice exploded as loud as before. He made a step closer – Noct couldn’t make any. Ardyn continued eagerly with something resembling a resentment in his voice, “And you must pay at last! I don’t bestow my clemency for free _twice_. Death may spare only young souls.”

The Immortal cackled at the King’s trance. Noct didn’t have time to dwell on his speech or prepare himself when the hand, much smaller than before but still eerily unhuman, lunged at him. It didn’t quite touch his face, but Noctis’ cheek was burnt with ice. If wanted, Noctis couldn’t escape the presence of the monster, he was behind and ahead of him, but also he was the constant whisper inside, spraying torpor over his members. Ardyn’s next question referred to the one he had asked once but slightly differed. 

“Are you ready to see the face of Death?”

As fast as apathy came, panic took it over and occupied Noctis’ emotions. Wrath was there too. What did he expect, really? Getting some freebies had never been an alternative to him. Especially from Ardyn. But it changed nothing: Noctis wasn’t going to back down as the goal lay around the corner. He wondered if he could summon the Armiger there and then...

Without waiting for his answer, Ardyn broke their bond; Not one, but two hands came into motion that time, and the King dived into his royal magic... to discover nothing. An empty jar instead of the blessed by the gods’ unlimited power. Noctis smiled wryly and started kicking and bucking. He wasn’t going to lose, to _die._ He couldn’t. Not then...

Meanwhile Ardyn raised his hands not to Noctis but to the place where his face should have been. He took his time bending the wrists, bringing the hands to the head and twisting metal branches that were his fingers – not a single hint of a rush, while Noctis struggled against what was the support and soft murmur just a while ago. He was seized by one, two, three, four and more outgrowths, the bunches of shadows webbing his body. Soon enough he was completely immobilized and helpless. 

That second Ardyn took off his hood.

And no matter how Noct turned away or screwed up his eyes, shouted or tried to rip up his fetters, the image of that face didn’t dim. The space shrinked. Convulsing, it pushed them together, closer and closer, shoving Noct under the searing gaze. It branded him, leaving its mark for good. When a sigh could not have escaped between them, the face moved even closer until all Noctis saw was that face. He was blinded and cried caustic tears. The two fiery dots touched his eyes but merged further, melted into him and spread inside, becoming the part of him. The liquid fire supplanted what was Noctis before. There left no place for him there.

If he hadn’t been dead before, that instant he died.

***

When everything ended, truly ended, something new was created. It got its own name as everything in the world.

***

When everything ended, Noct found himself standing in front of Ardyn. The familiar Ardyn, from flesh and blood, in the rags of the Chancellor, covered in dirt and wounds he had left over his body… watching him with a subtle smile, the most sincere Noct saw from him. It was all over, and he felt like with that ‘all’ part of him had gone too. Nevertheless, here he stood among the ruins of Insomnia, clutching the Blade of the Mystic as before, as if he had not died and looked into the eyes of Death. Beautiful, deadly eyes. Well, just beautiful henceforth.

Noct evened his heartbeat and looked at Ardyn in a new way. To tell the truth, he preferred him like that much more. More human, even if he exceeded any mortal. With his ridiculous taste in clothes and fluffy hair, not glittering but dusty, with the silly theatrical gestures and hat and taller than him but not significantly. Approachable. Noct could reach him in any moment he wanted. And Ardyn would let him.

He decided whatever part he had lost, it was worth it. He didn’t regret it.

The Accursed was the one who crossed the space dividing them with the same careful smile on the face – in his eyes and on his mouth – and reached Noct’s face. The situation painfully resembled the one he experienced, it seemed, in the past life. And again, he didn’t have the strength nor the wish to move back as the other palm rested on his cheek.

The King heard Ardyn’s whisper near his ear, and the breath warmed his skin. Because of the words, those very words, his own breath hitched for a moment:

“Congratulations on the awakening, darling. It was a rather long night, but as every night, this one tends to be over.”

Relief came to him with the sensation of cool lips.

The dawn of the resurrected world illuminated the old pavilion.

When they parted, the tickle of Ardyn’s smile remained on Noct’s lips for a while longer. He thought if he touched his mouth, he would still feel the soft, reassuring sensation telling him it was for real. He actually made it and stood there, alive, victorious and… happy? Noct listened to his senses to detect a clot of worry or any wrongness but only contentment responded. He felt as light as a feather, like soaring just above the ground, unable to land with all the fluff bursting him. The mental image made him giggle, which he didn’t conceal. He wanted to smile widely and laugh louder than ever. Looking at Ardyn’s smirk, he realised he would want to taste it again too.

“Is there something you’d like to do in the brave new world?” innocently asked Ardyn as though reading his minds, as always. Noct would have got sheepish and grouched and showed him away only to draw Ardyn to himself tight but went rigid straight away. He remained silent long enough for concern to cross Ardyn’s features. Noct didn’t know what happened. 

Faces and desires roiled in his head, shapeless and elusive, meaningless in their dispercion like a forgotten dream. They were the heavy weight on his chest, but no matter how desperately he chased them, they kept fading until he couldn’t remember any of them. Whatever he tried to catch, he didn’t think about it anymore. Still, the bubble of uncertainty confused him: 

“I don’t know.”

Ardyn peered into his face all the while, his knitted brows and pursed lips almost made Noct feel ashamed – how could he let some obscure trifles bother him when everything was finally good for a change? He couldn’t even name the thoughts that flickered through his mind, were they bitter or sweet. With much greater ardor Noct would decide where to wander – he was free, he could do anything, see overseas continents and exotic animals he only heard of, meet new people and try extraordinary things, bask in his glory or lurk in the shadow… _anything_. He felt giddy from all the chances that unfolded before him, it seemed impossible to dwell on the single plan. Noct was grateful for Ardyn for taking the initiative:

“Shall we see what may be to your liking then?” Ardyn was offering his hand to Noct like an oily gallant he was. “What would you say on that, hm, Noctis?”

“It’s Noct,” automatically corrected him the King. Although, he didn’t withdraw his words. Ardyn looked both surprised and pleased after his response. Smug too; Noct repelled his physiognomy with fortitude. At last, Ardyn’s face broke into tenderness, and he said under his breath, “Noct.”

That felt right.

Noct nodded and accepted his hand, “Let’s find a car first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some explanations, part two.  
> Unlike the Gods, people can change. Therefore, Ardyn, as a half-human, has the ability, under certain circumstances, to change his ‘side’. As it was said in the epigraph-quote, death cannot be seen by an ordinary person, it’s beyond the limits of the being of humans – Life. Thus someone special, no longer human but still mortal to be able to contact death, is required. And if someone has looked in the face of Death, they thereby ‘flipped a coin’, depriving Death of its main attribute of being unseen and untouchable. So Ardyn became the son of Life again, and for the Scourge there was no place in his essence.  
> Still, the price of seeing Ardyn’s pretty mug and turning this prophecy-nonsencical situation into something more passable is not cheap. What do you think, what it might have been?;)


End file.
